


A Loose End (Around the Neck) [Candler Perspective]

by DameGreyWulf



Series: Zed n Candler [9]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Choking, Death, M/M, Murder, Other, Snuff, Strangulation, Violence, suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 05:51:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18359918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameGreyWulf/pseuds/DameGreyWulf
Summary: A couple of old contacts attempt to murder Zed, and Candler secretly gets revenge.





	A Loose End (Around the Neck) [Candler Perspective]

**Author's Note:**

> This features my characters Zedinal and Marcellus (Candler) Beezl. They are not quite human and not quite furry, and Zed is actually unisex. Their descriptions are here:  
> https://www.weasyl.com/character/73200/zedinal-beezl  
> https://www.weasyl.com/character/23093/marcellus-candler-juarez-hoar-beezl

He noticed my looming shadow too late - I connected a heavy blow to the side of his head with the plank. He went tumbling away from Zed, and they all scattered. But I managed to snatch two of them by their collars, pinning them both to the fence, and recognized one.

“Jiggsy! I wouldn’t think of you as the jealous type!” I bellowed into his face.

Turning my head slightly, looking at Zed out of the corner of my eye, I asked if he was all right. He gave a quiet, timid reply. I focused back on the two, pounding them roughly against the fence again. 

"Who's your friend, Jiggs? A new recruit to that fucking madhouse?"

"Tha-that's my little brother!" he squealed in panic. "Please, don't hurt him!"

"That's fucking sick!" I snarled, feeling further rage overwhelm my senses. "Bringing your little brother into shit like this. You're a real fucking piece of work!"

They both winced and cowered. 

"What a shame, because you're both dead," I said with a dark chuckle. "Didn't have to be this way, shouldn't have brought him along. You've really failed as a brother, let alone as a killer. Time's up–"

"DON'T!!" came a choked cry from behind me.

I looked over my shoulder in full this time, looked directly at Zed. He tried to get up, but fell to his knees, his chest heaving in sobs. "Don't kill them, please!!" he wailed.

"But they were going to–!"

"Please, no more violence! Just... just stop... no more violence!!" He broke down, holding himself and shaking. 

The strength faded from my muscles and body. I dropped them, letting my arms fall limply to my side for a moment. They hesitated, and I turned my gaze back on them, feeling my fury rise up again for a second.

"Remember this, fuckheads," I spat. They winced again. "You're only alive right now because of HIM. The guy you were gonna axe, he says let you live. _You better fucking remember it._ You're only alive right now because of _him._ " My voice was low, threatening, full of every violent urge inside of me. 

"Get out. Now."

They didn't need told twice. They scrambled away as fast as their little legs could take them. I clenched and unclenched my fists in watching them go, but after a deep sigh I turned back to Zed.

I crouched next to him. 

"They're gone. It's okay." 

I went to touch him and he flinched and recoiled hard, holding himself tighter with a whimpering sob, and I felt a knife in my heart. 

_He was afraid of me._

"It... it's okay," I stammered. "Zed, I..." I wanted desperately to plead, don't be afraid of me, but it caught in my throat. It hurt. I felt so distant and cold all of a sudden, and terrified. 

I crawled a little closer. "Zed, please... It's... it's gonna be okay..." I whispered. "I'm... I'm so sorry..."

Slowly, carefully, I tried again, putting my arm around him. This time he accepted it, leaning against me slightly and allowing me to help him to his feet.

"Can you walk? I can carry you..." I asked cautiously. 

"Okay..." he answered meekly.

I picked him up, holding him on his back. He put his arms around my neck and buried his face in my shoulder. He muttered something about our groceries, which I had seen spilled on the street - how I knew he was in this alley. 

"I'll come back for them later," I assured him, although I didn't know how much could be saved. "Right now, let's just get you home."

———————————————————

And there they were. Those dumb sons of bitches really came back. I gave them a few days - I mean, I certainly wasn't in any hurry to be back in this place - but by god they really were spineless idiots. Imagine being addicted to a shitshow like this.

I made a beeline for them, weaving around the other thugs, every muscle in my body tensed, and my teeth clenched. When they spotted me and tried to run, I cracked a wicked smile, my nostrils flaring. It was so easy to catch up to them as they stumbled to get away.

Especially with others blocking their path intentionally. This really was a den of sadism. They were eager to see me do whatever it is I was going to do. That's just how things work here. These two had a chance to make better lives for themselves, and they didn't take it.

And now they were going to die for it.

“Hey, where ya going!?" I whooped. Nothing could stop my hands reaching out for their throats - and I hit with such force that their heads bounced off the pavement. 

I wanted to say something, to laugh, to smile cruelly as I watched the life drain from their eyes. But, instead, I sealed my lips, looked down, and closed my eyes. I will not allow myself to get any more pleasure from this. I am just tying a loose end. Just doing a necessary job. 

“I thought you were gonna let us live!" one of them gasped.

“No, only he wanted you alive. And he's not here right now. And what he doesn't know won't hurt him. You won't hurt him or anyone else ever again." I said in that low, threatening tone, feeling it rumble out of me like distant thunder. “You shouldn't have come back."

I didn't respond to anything after that, just waited, keeping my crushing grasp on their windpipes. They were far smaller than me, all I needed was one hand for each, and to wait. 

Wait for them to stop kicking.

Wait for them to stop clawing at my arms.

Wait for them to stop gasping and gurgling.

And wait even after they were still, until I could no longer feel a pulse.

And wait a little longer more, to be sure they were gone.

It seemed like it took forever and like it was over instantly at the same time. The crowd had stopped jeering and gone silent with the lack of show. Somehow, that seemed more chilling to them.  
I stood up and headed back out of the warehouse. “This is a warning," I spoke as I strolled. “Leave me and mine the fuck alone." 

Not everyone backed out of my path, but I simply walked around those that didn't, refusing to challenge anyone. I wasn't coming back, and they could have their kingly status in this clown car. 

———————————————————

I was halfway home before I really started to shake. My hands had been bound in tight fists, but now they were shaking uncontrollably. I didn't want to go home. I had to go somewhere else for a while. 

I stopped at a seedy club, but I didn't want to drink. I went straight to the men's restroom, to the last stall - the handicapped one - and stood in the corner of it, facing the wall. Again, I clenched and unclenched my hands. 

And suddenly, I punched the wall. I punched it several times. I turned and punched the walls of the stall, then kicked the door open. I went to the sink, at first intending to wash the blood off my knuckles, but when I looked up into the mirror... I suddenly punched it out. I punched out all the mirrors and started flailing wildly at the walls, the stalls, the sinks, slinging blood everywhere, blinded by tears.

Either I was making a lot of noise, or someone walked in at some point, because the bouncer appeared in the doorway and barked at me.

“What the hell are you doing!? Are you out of your fucking mind!?"

“FUCK OFF!!" I shrieked. “OR YOU'RE NEXT!!" I attempted to point at them threateningly, but my hands were shaking even worse.

“All right, you need to calm down, asshole," came a cool reply, which made me even angrier. They looked back to say something to someone behind them, and I charged.

I was down in an instant, a blow to my stomach sent me skidding back, crumpling to the floor. I swore and spat like an alley cat, but I couldn't gather my brains to get back up. I kicked uselessly, lashing out at anyone attempting to come to me, and barely heard the things they were saying.

"He's not drunk. He doesn't stink."

“He came in, went right past the bar, straight into here..."

“He must be on drugs. He must have overdosed."

“We need to call an ambulance..."

“NO!!" My voice scraped painfully in my throat. “No hospitals!! No doctors!!" I coughed out. I curled up into a ball, repeating myself endlessly, “No hospitals... no doctors..."

Murmurs came from a collecting crowd.

"I want to go home..." I finally managed to say. “Let me go home."

“Buddy, we're not turning you out on the street. You're badly hurt and clearly fucked in the head right now. You need help."

“Just leave me alone..."

“You won't get arrested for drug abuse–"

“I just... want to go home..."

It went back and forth like that for a while. There was a long sigh. 

“Fine. Do you have a phone? Someone we can call to come get you?"

“No. And... I don't want him to see me right now."

“Listen bud, it's either that or we call an ambulance."

I was quiet for a moment. My mind was getting clearer. 

“Okay..." I surrendered, and gave them our number. 

More murmuring as someone dialed it on their cell.

“Hey, hello? Listen, this is the Swing Low Chariot Club, on northwest 4th street, we have a situation here..."

I barely listened. I wasn't prepared for Zed, but I wasn't about to be medically subjected. I honestly don't know what I was thinking would happen, but I didn't want it like this. I stared ahead of me, across the cold floor, at the stall legs and toilet bowls and wall beyond. My mind was a blank, I didn't know what to think or how to feel. Let alone... how to explain myself.

“Marcellus?! Marcellus!!" He got down on his hands and knees, looking fearfully into my face. “What happened!?"

I stared ahead.

“I'm drunk. I had a bad trip." I answered flatly. Slowly, I looked up. “Please take me home."

He looked confused. I'm sure he knew I was lying. But he didn't call me on it. 

“Okay," he said. “I'll take you home." 

He helped me to my feet, and walked me to the taxi cab with him, thanking the bouncer and others as we passed. I limped silently along, staring at the ground, avoiding the eyes of the spectators.

“Take us to the nearest ER," he told the driver. When I sat up to protest, he looked me straight in the eye and firmly said, “We're going to the ER." I looked back down at the floor, accepting my defeat. I simply hoped that he wouldn't confront me about the lies, knowing that a doctor would surely tell him that I had no alcohol in me. 

He can never know about what I really did that night.


End file.
